


Silver Spool

by besttransplant



Category: Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Body Horror, F/F, Female Protagonist, Flirting, Haunted Houses, Lesbian Vampires, Mild Gore, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Paladins, Vampires, dnd, fellas is it gay to chase after a big monster in a spooky mansion together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29096730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/besttransplant/pseuds/besttransplant
Summary: Ysabella Highreach, paladin under the Stormqueen Hera, comes to the Stagwood Manor to find out what's been stealing away villagers, only to find much more that what she bargained for. Fighting for her life, she makes an unlikely ally with an aloof drow vampire.





	Silver Spool

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is an original piece i was commissioned to write about by a fellow peer a few years ago. its of my dnd ocs: ysabella the paladin (oath of the conqueror) and antigone the drow vampire (warlock, pact of the fae). enjoy!

The reports to the Advent of Hera had an edge of urgency with the encroaching chill of winter in weeks’ time. Dozens of cattle were found desiccated along their borders. Nearly fifty villagers had disappeared into the forests of Narinshire for days at a time. They would return home with a dark red haze crowding their sclera, and not a foggy recollection of what beckoned them into the dark.

The head priors of the Advent came to a lone conclusion: there could be only one source of power strong enough to command such a berth of wills to it.

The Stagwood Manor. Long abandoned, its stony walls crumbling with a fine dusting of age and moss. Time had not been kind to it, but kind enough to forget its sordid past.

The goal was clear, and so was the mission’s sole executor: a master paladin, a gleaming beacon of hope for countless villages. 

This was not a rescue mission. This was not an expedition. This was an extermination. And Ysabella Highreach, She-Warden of Hera, was the only woman fit for the task.

~~~

Ysabella’s dirty blonde head tipped far back to see the highest arch of the Manor’s stone-wrought gates.

“Far too heavy to be moved by mortal hands,” she thought to herself, and smiled.

She smacked her heavy steel gauntlets together and gripped the stone handles herself. Power deep within her core rose up and out, circulating through her well-worn muscles and bade her to part those same stone slabs. A rush of stale air unfurled before her as she stepped though those great stone doors, leaving her alone in the dark.

Expecting pitch blackness, she found pools of pale molten wax, burning gingerly. Someone was fond of the Manor’s old ghost of opulence. Dark oak carpentry held not a speck of dust. Books upon books were scattered throughout the Manor’s halls. Should she have not been alone, she would have sketched out the hall in her journal for her own pleasure.

Paladins were not known for their stealth, but Ysabella minimized how much her armor clunked awkwardly as she searched. A simple peek in each room was enough to see whether it was occupied by a lich, a coffin, or—gods forbid—a portal to some arcane plane. 

(Ysabella wasn’t fond of closing doors. She was fond of opening them. In her enemies. With her glaive. Frequently.) 

This one room at the end of the hall, however, was sealed shut. It did not yield to a push, and yet the resistance of a lock was absent. A quick inspection yielded no arcane alarms or traps behind the door.

She took a step back, considered the most silent option, and promptly threw that line of thought careening out the highest tower by taking the blunt end of her glaive, raising it with both stiff straight arms up and bashing in the door with all her impatient Hera-given strength. 

Quick, brutal, and to the point. Just like the flurry of wings and chattering wind that broke through the door and assaulted her.

Her cry of shock was lost in the storm of leathery wings pelting her face, crowding out her vision as she tried to plant her feet to the ground. As soon as the pressure lessened, she whipped around to see the flock of bats melt into a cyclone of sheer black animus behind her. It was flowing into the form of something humanoid, even punchable.

The culprit, already bending over with a haughty laughing fit, was of slight build and elvish descent, navy skin and pointed ears giving her away. Her striking dash of luminescent lavender hair made it easy to spot her in the dark hall, as if her rancorous guffawing didn’t expose her enough.

“Fucking hell, ahahah! The look on your face when I got you–and I got you good, right?! Bwahahah!” 

The elf–likely drow, definitely evil–pointed and held herself together by her sides, ignoring the daggers Ysabella’s eyes were boring into her flesh and the very real dagger the paladin was slipping out of her armor. 

The flat of the blade was smooth on her lips, sparking to life with cobalt blue sparks before she flung them overhand directly at the v of the elf’s clavicle. Without looking up, the elf sprung back up into a flock of angry bats and coagulated onto the ceiling above. The paladin could see the burning embers in her eyes, and the sinister grin growing on her face.

And her  _ fangs _ . Sticking over her ichor black lips, with a long tongue swiping over them lasciviously as she eyed her prey. Ysabella could hardly take her eyes off of them, gleaming bright in the moonlight.

“I haven’t had such a prime meal in so long, so come, come for me! You better give me a good show before dinner!”

“Oh, shut up and DIE you scum!” Ysabella roared. She grit her teeth, whipped her glaive around to catch the vampire at whatever angle she leapt from. Her blood ran hot underneath inches of chainmail and steel. Every angle of her actions would be precise, every ounce of force dripping into her veins would be deadly, and every biting word that would goad this undead foe to her timely death would—

A door creaked open. A door to something sleeping, old and terrible. And both women heard it, a door to something loud and viciously scathing against their own minds. It croaked like a horribly old trunk screaming as lightning struck it right to its rotten core. 

The vampire dropped down to the floor, quivering in her black leather boots. 

“ _ No no no _ , not again…I got it right this time, I know it! I can’t be wrong, I…” the vampire stuttered, ducking to find something in a leather pouch at her side. 

“You! Go now, if you value your life!” cried the vampire as she raced down the hall, covering an ear to the mind splitting cacophony. With a grunt of confusion, Ysabella whipped around to catch a glimpse at the source of their agony.

The “door” was not a door. It was a deer, or used to be one, once upon a time. Bloated and formless, hooves and antlers and ribcages melding together to form a body most horrible. Its putrid stench filled Ysabella’s eyes and nose and she gagged, buckling into a coughing fit, unable to move as the deadly heap of deerflesh flooded the hall. It was crowding her in, until a thick plume of heat shot out beside her and struck the beast clear in the “head”.

Ysabella looked up to see the vampire’s fingertips steaming from its last firebolt. “Fucking  _ come on _ , you damn girl scout.” she chided as she pulled on the edges of her plate mail. Without thinking, Ysabella chased after her.

They raced down the long-abandoned halls of the Manor together, seemingly forgetting the vile words spat moments earlier.

“Your kind, you can all channel those webs from your deity, yes? Can’t those hold back the beast?” Ysa huffed as she fiddled with her pouch of holy items. She could surmise what might distress the beast with enough time.

The elf shot her a look, rolled her eyes as she rummaged through her own pockets. 

“Our goddess Lolth does grant us her Spectral Webs, but this thing, it counters it too quickly. I can’t hold it back any more than a minute or two, maybe five if I’m lucky.” 

She finally pulls out a spindle of pure white thread, taking care not to touch it aside from the wooden roll. 

Ysabella looks up at her and pulls out their boon: a small roll of galvanized barbed wire, twinkling dangerously in the moonlight. 

She smiles, chin up and eyes wide with pride.

“I believe I’ve got an idea. But I must ask, what is your name, vampire?”

The vampire titters, holding a hand to hide her flirtatious grin. 

“Isn’t it gauche to ask a fair maiden for her true name so soon? No matter. Tell me your idea and I just might tell you if we live, mortal.”

Ysabella’s cheeks felt hot.

~~~

The deerflesh beast groaned quietly in the halls, almost basking in the slivers of moonlight streaming into the Manor.

Almost, because something metal and mortal was clunking towards the beast in its lulled state.

Ysabella screamed and screamed and screamed some more until she heard the beast roar back up to an ear-splitting volume once again, shifting and splashing down those ancient halls until it fell into contact with the mortal soul it desperately wanted to absorb into its flesh.

And it was almost close to her, but not before Ysabella turned a corner to expose that same bright white patch of hair against the darkened floor.

She was too quick, weaving her fingers through the hurried knots made of the two threads. A rushed mesh of webbing and wire flowing through her fingers like silken fringe, a fine coating of protection magic glistening bright purple around her.

Ysabella’s heart nearly stopped as she looked into the elf’s eyes: sheer burning malice, with power and pride. She was not a jealous woman, though she misunderstood her own reaction as envy, no more, no less. She ignored the gorgeous spark of magic flickering behind her eyes as the elf cast the spell, twin materials twisting into a dozen double helixes to surround the beast.

Bright white and purple miasma dripped from the wounds cut into the deerflesh beast, another trunk-splitting groan filling the surrounding miles of forest. Ysabella struggled against the weight of her flayed mind to face the beast, muzzled by spiderwebs fortified with barbed metal. 

Ysabella threw her gauntlet to the ground, exposing a weathered hand dusted with blonde hairs, raising it so.

Without a word, a blast of white-hot fire engulfed the beast’s putrid body. Its cries melted into something more pitiful for a few desperate moments before the banishing spell poofed it away to a very unfortunate plane.

Ysabella sighed, her entire body sagging with relief before retrieving her gauntlet. She could have a flare for the dramatic too, after all.

“I’m impressed, mortal! I had no idea that spell would actually work.” The vampire boomed, her magic finally slipping away with a few smacks together.

“Me too. I think the combination of the blessed wire and Lolth’s webs did the trick for now. We should expect it back in about a week at the very least.” 

The vampire gave a soft “huh”. 

“I think I’ll…keep you around, to take care of the beast then. Maybe you can cook up a better scheme than whatever I’ve been doing for the past few months.” She said, looking every which way but not at Ysabella.

The paladin’s brow furrowed. “Months? Clearly, you’re strong enough to leave, why don’t you–”

“Ah well, would you look at the time! Dawn is breaking and this babe? She’s gotta get some shuteye. Thanks to you, I might just get my first good sleep this year! See you around…” And with that, the nameless vampire dissipated into a flock of bats and fluttered down the hall.

“Wait, come back!” Ysabella grasped at the empty air for answers. This woman, so strong yet cautious yet stunning, had her mind reeling. Who was she?

“Who are you…?” It was a thought, barely a whisper. 

In the dark, lingering before the scorched floor, she spoke her own name, plus more.

“It’s rather long, so…call me Ysa, if you like.”

Why was she still blushing? Surely it must’ve been the heat from the blast.

But she knew that was wrong, because her cheeks burned even more when she picked out the vampire’s soft giggle.

“I’m Antigone, but you can call me Annie, Ysa. Pleasure to meet you…”


End file.
